


Keep on loving you

by Gia_cz



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23231554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia_cz/pseuds/Gia_cz
Summary: Elio met Oliver Ulliva when he was ten years old and they were best friends ever since.A little story about how Elio has been in love with his best friend since forever and then he decides to pretend they are an actual couple just so Elio's loving parents shut up for a minute and let him catch a breath.Author's note: this story isn't finished and will be added in irregular intervals. Therefore, if you unwilling to wait, don't read it.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change.” ― Wayne W. Dyer
> 
> x
> 
> As always, I do apologise for all grammatical errors and mistakes in the story. I do not have Beta and English isn't my first language.
> 
> With all horrible things that are happening recently in the world, I do hope that you are all safe and I pray the nightmare will be over soon. I'm very frustrated myself as I'm in my last three months of my nursing degree and our university pulled all of us out from our clinical placements, which were almost finished. Future looks a big gloomy from where I'm looking at it right now, but I'm not loosing my belief! Stay strong, wash your hands and be beautiful as always <3 Gia xx
> 
> PS: This is Winettou and Old Shatterhand as they looked in the movies. Are any of you familiar? I guess you are all far too young for that, haha. Oh well, Winettou was my first crush ever when I was maybe seven years old and when he died my whole world turned upside down! Oh well, those were the days...
> 
> https://www.dw.com/image/19294020_303.jpg

Elio's sixth sense, which he developed throughout the years in order to be able to distinguish when his mother is _watching_ him blares like an unwanted morning alarm on a day off from work. He tries not to appear too wooden and out of his depth as he turns towards Oliver, who is about to be snatched away by Elio's father for something that could only be called a good, old shovel talk and kisses Oliver's partly exposed shoulder briefly.   
  
"I don't think I can really express how happy you and Oliver made me, _cariño_ ," Annella whispers gently when Sami and Oliver exit the room, both men already deep in a conversation. "Call it an old witch's intuition, but I always knew you cared for Oliver far too deeply, and loved him since forever. Maybe even before you two met. Two soulmates destined to chase each other through universes until the end of times."   
  
-x-  
  
Elio remembers the day he met Oliver Ulliva as if it was only yesterday and not fifteen years ago.   
  
***** flashback  
  
Elio hated when him and mamma argued.   
  
Lately, they argued more often than didn't, and Elio wonders if his mother still loves him the way she loved him two months ago when he celebrated his tenth birthday and she told him he would always be the most important man in her life.   
  
That was before her and papà decided to move all the way to America. Before they decided to expose his barely solid roots to the outside world, forcing him away from a sheltered life of their villa, erasing the familiar paths, streams and trees he knew better than back of his own hand.   
  
"We will keep the villa for holidays, darling. And we will always have our memories," his mother tells him, but Elio feels the cut of her betrayal so deep that his belly hurts almost the same way it hurts when he eats spicy food he is so sensitive to.   
  
He walks out the house and makes sure he slams the front door loudly, ignoring her far too cheerful, "fresh air will do you good, cariño."   
  
He kicks the tips of his new Converse into the pavement, thinking about stupid America and stupid American shoes his father tries to bribe him with. Elio doesn't really know where to go at all, they have only moved into their new house four days ago and he was far too stubborn to accept any of the suggestions his parents made in an attempt to lure him out of his bedroom in order to explore the neighbourhood.   
  
Elio doesn't walk far at all before it starts raining, but he thinks it's quite nice, because it was getting far too hot to breathe comfortably. He rubs the rainwater from his eyes with the heel of his hand and that's when he sees the boy.   
  
All he can make out is a blonde mop of hair and Elio thinks the boy looks kind of miserable from the way he sits by the side of the road - with his knees pulled towards his chest and face buried in his hands.   
  
Elio sometimes sits quite like this - when he thinks about Italy and Mafalda and catching fish in the stream with his bare hands.   
  
He crosses the road and makes his way towards the boy.   
  
"Ciao," Elio offers weakly and his earlier confidence about approaching the boy starts to fade away as soon as he realises he is crying. Elio isn't good with tears and crying. He always ends up sniffling too. "Are you okay?"   
  
The other boy doesn't say anything at all and Elio winces as his whole body heaves with a particularly forceful sob.   
  
Elio shuffles uncomfortably and the graze on his knee stings as the rain gets to it. He reaches into the pocket of his shorts and fishes out a small and rather crumpled bag filled with blueberries.   
  
"You want some?"   
  
The boy finally looks up at Elio and bag of blueberries and Elio ponders a very important question as to why are blueberries called blueberries when they aren't really blue, but _ladies and gentlemen_ this boy's eyes certainly are. Even if they are all red rimmed and awfully puffy from tears.   
  
"Elvis likes blueberries. Sometimes he would try to eat them, sometimes he would just chase them around," the boy tells him and his voice is shaking so badly that something in Elio responds and trembles as well.  
  
"Elvis?" Elio asks slowly and he doesn't think the boy is talking about the king of rock roll although it's a perfectly plausible theory to consider that Elvis Presley was fond of blueberries. They are nice and really good for your health. So did Mafalda used to tell him and she is usually right. Terrifyingly so.   
  
The boy extends his knees straight and there is a cat curled in the middle of his lap - big, black thing with lots of shiny fur. And when Elio looks at it again, he realises the cat isn't asleep.   
  
Elio never saw a dead cat before, but it doesn't scare him - instead he feels unsure and little sad as he sits down next to the boy and he thinks the feeling is something his parents would call _sympathy._  
  
"I never had a pet. Not one. I have allergies and mamma can't stand the hair. But I would like one. One day. Very much," Elio says and rests his hand on the other boy's elbow briefly. "Is it okay if I pet him? He seems like he was a lovely cat."   
  
The boy starts to cry again, but nods and Elio is very careful as he caresses the cat's body, "at first, I thought he was just sleeping you know? He looks very peaceful."   
  
"He was a very good cat and my best friend," the boy tells him and nods again. "I shouldn't have let him shit in Miller's garden. He hates everything that moves and shoots it too. I'm sure he hit Elvis by car. I hope he will rot in hell one day, old nasty fucker."   
  
Elio notices as the boy's voice gets all hoarse and emotional again so he blurts out the first thing that comes to Elio’s mind in an attempt to distract him from grief, "maybe, he was chosen for something bigger than this? Maybe he travels across the stars and fights for peace, love and acceptance. Isn't that a much nicer thing to think about?"  
  
The boy blinks at him and Elio wonders if he is imagining Elvis in a little space suit as he bounces from star to star establishing never ending peace and prosperity. The boy looks at the cat in his lap and kisses it in between the ears before craning his neck and looking up at the grey, cloudy sky.   
  
"He was always such an explorer, he would absolutely love that."   
  
***** end of flashback  
  
It's so unfamiliar, but Elio feels _relieved_ when his mother tells him Oliver and Elio should rest for a while as they must be tired from the journey and excuses Elio to the safety of his old bedroom.   
  
_Elio's and Oliver's bedroom for the time being._  
  
"I can't believe I thought this would work. Why would I do this to my parents in the first place? Why would I drag you into such a mess?" Elio's mouth starts to run on its own accord almost as soon as the door closes behind his back. "It’s such a horrible idea to play with. Let's just tell them the truth."   
  
Oliver turns around from where he stands by a window and Elio thinks the late afternoon July sun does awfully beautiful things to his skin tone.   
  
"I thought they looked happy?" Oliver says as he walks towards Elio and watches him with deep, focused concentration, which Elio knows only far too well. He really doesn't want to be on the receiving end of his best friend's detailed analysis about Elio's change of plans at the very last minute right now. Not ever. "I mean, this was always your call to make, Elio. But I thought that's why you asked me to do this? So your parents stop with their pestering?"   
  
_They look too happy_ , Elio's freaked out mind argues and really how much time passed since he saw his parents _this_ content? Why did he ever think that he could get away with pretending and lying about him and Oliver being a couple?   
  
"I'm an abomination of a son and the worst best friend ever," Elio comes to conclusion there and then as he sits onto his childhood bed. "What on earth possessed me to do this?"   
  
Elio's question was more of a rhetorical one of course, because he knows it was his mother's and father's persistent questioning and constant worry that somehow never managed to seep out of their voices whenever they mentioned he is always alone and single and listed one hundred and one things that were wrong about that (about him) and papa's _friend_ from university is a professional and perhaps Elio could talk to him about what bothers him.  
  
Sami and Annella Perlman were good parents and Elio never doubted that. But they never understood Elio's shyness and introverted character when it came to seeing other people or rather the fact that he avoided it quite happily. _Amore_ was something that always appeared high on their pyramid of needs and their only son simply couldn't be a loner. Not if they have any say in it.   
  
Elio isn't alone. He has Oliver and Marzia. Maybe he doesn't see Oliver often enough since his best friend got accepted into a police academy - something that didn't sit quite right with Elio's idea of Oliver's future, but at the same time it really wasn't all that surprising.  
  
Oliver squats down in front of him and ruffles Elio's already helplessly messy hair; "it's only for three days, right? Three days and we head back home. We see your parents maybe four times a year, Elio. We can do this. And if you even then think we can't keep this up, we break up and tell them it wasn't working between us."   
  
Oliver smiles at him and Elio misses the long strand of hair that used to reach across Oliver’s right eye like a little curtain, but his hand reaches out nonetheless and Elio traces an unfamiliar velvet like surface of Oliver's crew haircut with his palm.

"I hate how short they cut your hair," Elio grunts and he suddenly feels jet lagged and so tired he loses all of the previous fiery passion for what's wrong and what's right.   
  
"I know," Oliver nods slowly. "Why don't you sleep for a while and I keep your mum and dad a company?"   
  
Elio doesn't need convincing, not really and he allows Oliver to push him deeper into a plush mattress and cover him with a thick blanket that reminds Elio of Mafalda and the way she used to hum to herself during her chores.

"Like they need any more reminding of why exactly you are their favourite son," Elio yawns around the words and waves at Oliver as he walks towards the door.  
  
"Sleep tight."   
  
-x-

It’s dark outside when Elio blinks his eyes open and he wonders why Oliver didn’t try to wake him up earlier. The sound, which Elio didn’t notice until now – shower – cuts off abruptly and there is a bit of noisy commotion as Oliver moves around a confined space.

Elio _knows_ his best friend is tiptoeing when he enters the room and Elio can’t help the wicked grin that spreads across his face as he rolls over to face Oliver. Two hundred pounds of pure undiluted muscle trying and failing rather spectacularly in being subtle.

He isn’t sure what to think about the way Oliver’s body seems to change every time Elio sees the other man on the leave from the academy. Elio takes in Oliver’s almost unbelievably broad chest and the six pack that is now far more prominent across the dip of his abdomen and yes, it’s attractive – Oliver won’t be ever not beautiful in Elio’s eyes, but it’s also horribly unfamiliar – the thickness of Oliver’s thighs and biceps with no sign of fat and it scares Elio, the idea that he is loosing what he had with Oliver for such a long time and what was so good and precious and _his_ and now it’s simply crumbling to dust bit by bit and he doesn’t know what to do to make it all go away. 

“Shoot, I was really trying my best to not wake you up,” Oliver smiles apologetically as he walks over to his duffle bag and digs out a comfortably looking pair of jogger pants. Elio doesn’t avert his eyes when Oliver lets the towel slip from his hips and dresses up with a military efficiency. “Your parents are downstairs and said we could join them for a movie if you are awake and up to it?”

Elio knows he should reply and he thinks he did – saying something swift and not too exposing, but then perhaps he didn’t, because suddenly the bed dips and creaks under Oliver’s weight and his best friend’s eyes are watching Elio’s face – so blue and big as bubbles from a washing machine and so unique that Elio always thought there should be verses dedicated to their expressiveness of Oliver’s beautiful soul, but then perhaps he is a little bit bias, because as put so eloquently by his mother, he has been in love with Oliver since forever and maybe long before that.

And he doesn’t condemn the feeling the way he used to, instead he welcomes it as something what represents an integral part of who Elio was, is and will be and he thinks it’s rather laughable matter, the way his parents think he is incapable of passion and love.

“You okay, doll? I think I lost you for a bit,” Oliver says and Elio hates the nickname Oliver uses for him – like he is one of Oliver’s girlfriends or one night stands, but he also desperately likes it at the same time, because Elio met and knew every single one of them and he knows Oliver never used the nickname with any of them and he wants to slap Oliver across his face, because he _isn’t_ some pretty faced porcelain doll and he could almost hear Marzia inside of his head as she always laughs at the weakness of his argument _but Elio, you look so much more feminine than all of them put together! You are a doll!_

Elio is used to the tightness he feels around his heart almost constantly and he wonders if the softness of Oliver's smile ever ceases to cause that pain, “do you ever wish we were fifteen again?”

 ***** flashback

Technically, it was Oliver who was fifteen and Elio was two years his junior.

Some people still believed Germans were evil. More so those inside their close-knit, Jewish community.

Elio and Oliver thought Mr Berger was absolute _legend_.

He introduces books of Karl May to Elio and Oliver, because _you two are basically inseparable and friendship like that isn’t easy to stumble upon_ and he translates his old looking, tattered books to them on lazy Saturday’s afternoons when there is nothing else to do and tells them all about an unlikely, but perhaps more so unbreakable bond between the main characters - Apache Winnetou and German Old Shatterhand.

They are both thrilled by the stories of bravery and righteousness – the way the two men fight to protect what’s left of goodness in people and how humble they are in front of nature and its untamed power.

And Elio thinks Oliver will laugh at him – being fifteen now, but he asks nonetheless, asks if Oliver would like to play - to pretend that some of these adventures Mr Berger tells them about are real and _theirs_ and Oliver doesn’t laugh at him at all – instead he insists Elio has to be Winnetou and should use the bow and arrows Oliver’s father gave him for his birthday two years ago.

They play in the forest near Elio’s house, the forest they know far too well for there isn’t a tree they didn’t climb on during the past years, but it’s somehow different _like this_ when they pretend they are saving _their forest_ from an attack of evil intruders who want to burn it to the ground.

And then because Mr Berger doesn’t own the third Winnetou book and they finished the previous two, he tells them there are also movies and Elio begs his father on his knees until there are actual grazes and it takes months, but his father surprises them one day and projects _Treasure of Silver Lake_ on their living room’s wall. The movie is in German, but Elio’s mother translates it patiently bit by bit and isn’t impatient or angry when they ask to rewind certain scenes and play them again, because it’s all so _exciting_!

“How idealistic the whole idea is,” Elio’s father says and shakes his head at Annella who reprimands him with a little, lovely smile.

“I think it’s exactly what boys of their age need, darling,” she says and carries on with the translation.

Elio thinks that Lex Barker – the actor, who plays Old Shatterhand really looks a bit like Oliver – with his blonde locks, blue eyes and manly, wide chest and he laughs aloud when Oliver tries to mimic the gun shooting scene, but then Winnetou enters the scene and one Elio joins Oliver in his poor dramatic attempt and two he thinks he really needs that awesome Apache hair band Winnetou wears more than anything.

 ***** end of flashback

“What movie are we going to watch?” Elio asks as they make themselves comfortable on the sofa and there are two bowls of popcorn on the table in front of them.

“It’s a surprise,” Annella says with a mischievous wink as she lights up a cigarette and takes a lazy drag. “Your father thought it’s rather fitting to the occasion.”

Elio looks at Oliver but the man just shrugs his shoulders at him and that surprises Elio, because papà rarely keeps a secret from Oliver, but then he reads _The Desperado Trail_ as the words appear across the wall in front of them and there is a sharp inhale of air from where Oliver is sitting next to him, because they never got to see or read the last part of Winettou and Old Shatterhand adventures, no matter how many people his father asked for the copy of it.

“Oh my god, papà, you cannot be serious,” Elio exclaims and doesn’t stop himself as he grabs Oliver’s hand in excitement. “I can’t believe that we are actually going to see the end of it all.”

“Honestly, Sami,” Oliver adds and Elio doesn’t miss the way he squeezes Elio’s hand back. “This is beyond surprise. This is awesome.”

“ _Dio mio!_ You two didn’t change at all,” Elio’s father cackles as he sits down next to Annella and kisses the back of her hand in a tender gesture. “I give up. You two are hopeless romantics and you were made for each other.”

“Assolutamente!” Annella says in agreement and she smiles at Elio and Oliver the way she smiled at them when Elio told her that they are dating – that they are couple – that he isn’t alone anymore, she looks so incredibly happy that she is basically glowing with a sheer force of the emotion, and Elio can feel the warm redness as it covers his face and he isn’t sure if it’s from shame and the fact that he is so willingly lying to her and his father or embarrassment of how much he wishes all this is true. “I told you, darling. It’s perfect," Annella kisses Samuel on the tip of his bearded chin and she smiles at Elio. "Of course, it’s not near perfect enough as the present you and Oliver gave to us, nothing can’t beat that, nothing, but we know this always meant a lot to you and Oliver.”

Elio doesn’t dare to look up at Oliver who is suddenly very quiet and unmoving presence next to him.

-x-

Elio wishes he could travel through space and time and he wishes more than anything that he could stop them from watching the movie.

He doesn’t know why, but it never occurred to Elio over the years that they could have bought the missing book or downloaded the movie once they were older and it became more available, but they never even tried and fuck, these were movies for children – idealistic and heroic and surely, Winettou shouldn’t have just done something so commonplace as to die.

The room is completely silent as they watch Winettou who sacrifices himself for his blood brother, the only brother he ever had, and his last thoughts wander into the past when they were younger and with far less weight strapped onto their shoulders. Winettou then looks at his best friend – really looks at him for what he is and nothing more and Elio doesn’t hear the last words escaping his childhood hero’s mouth, because Oliver jumps to his feet and Elio doesn’t miss the way Oliver wipes at his eyes furiously and then he is gone and there is a very loud noise as the front door slam with such a force it makes Annella and Sami jump.

“I-I have to go after him,” Elio tells his parents and he can’t stop the finality of the feeling that dawns on him with such a clarity it’s actually physically painful, but yes, there it is – another thing between him and Oliver, which was treasured and loved by Elio and it is being pried away from him with a force of a crowbar. “I need to make sure he is okay.”

“Yes, of course,” his father nods quietly and Elio isn’t looking at the wall anymore, because who were Winettou and Old Shatterhand without each other? And who was Elio without Oliver? “Of course.”

-x-

It takes a while, but Elio finds him at the end. Oliver sits under one of the trees in the orchard and his eyes are closed, but Elio also knows Oliver is aware of his presence.

There are fresh tears as they push their way from behind Oliver’s tightly shut eyelids and it always hits Elio like a direct punch into solar plexus – how easily Oliver cries and doesn’t shy away from his emotions.

Elio knows it’s not just the movie and Winettou’s death. He knows it has a lot to do with what happened a month ago when they had to put down Oliver’s beloved dog. It happened just before Oliver left for the academy and it was a deep blow for both of them. Blow to their never fading childhood. Blow to everything what was good.

He doesn’t say anything at first, he just walks over to Oliver and although his blonde hair is much shorter now, Elio still recognises the way his best friend sits – the way he brings his knees so close to his chest in hope it makes him somehow more invisible to the outside world.

“Do you ever wish we were fifteen again?” Elio asks Oliver not for the fist time tonight as he rests his temple against Oliver’s shoulder.

 ***** flashback

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Oliver glances over his shoulder where his parents finally managed to park a car and are making their way towards them across the car park.

“Did you take your Piriton?” He asks Elio as they walk towards the local pound and the way Oliver almost bounces with excitement makes Elio's head spin.

“Yeah, I took two. Just to be on a safe side,” Elio holds the door ajar for Oliver’s parents. It takes only a very short introduction from the staff before they are let into the area where the dogs for adoption are being held and if he feels a slight itch inside his nose Elio doesn’t say a word about it.

*

“Are you sure, Oli?” Oliver’s mum asks and looks at her husband for guidance on the matter, but Mr Ulliva shrugs his shoulder and pats Oliver between his shoulder blades.

“You know the dog is going to be your responsibility, bud?” Oliver’s dad adds carefully. “And this one over there? That's one big dog, Oliver."

“Right?” Oliver flashes a brilliant, toothy smile at his parents and Elio and gestures towards the dog, who lays more or less at the very back of the kennel with the butt pressed against the wall. “And it’s still only a puppy!”

Oliver grabs Elio by the elbow and drags him closer to the kennel where Oliver drops onto his knees completely ignoring questionable dirt that covers the floor, “come on, buddy. Come and say hello to Elio!”

Elio squints at the little poster on the wall next to the kennel that says the dog is here for quite a long time and he starts to wonder why when the animal angles its head with a curiosity as Oliver talks to it about nothing and everything and tells him about Winettou and Old Shatterhand and how Old Shatterhand has this absolutely awesome horse named Hatatitla, which means Lightning in Apache and if the dog wants to he can come to the forest with them sometimes and be Oliver’s Hatatitla, but it’s also okay if he just wants to run and roam around and pretend he is a wolf.

And then the dog gets up and carefully walks towards Oliver and Elio holds his breath in a surprise, because the animal is positively huge and it also has only three limbs.

“Oh, I didn’t realise _that_ before!” Oliver exclaims and gently offers his hand to the dog, who proceeds to sniff at it with a big, long muzzle, “it’s a German Shepherd! That’s perfect, because Elio and I decided he is going to be Karl as in Karl May and so the German name is well suited for him.”

“But he has only three legs,” Oliver’s mum says as she moves closer to them and scratches Karl’s chest where his fur turns almost ginger and incredibly thick.

“Yeah. He is perfect, right?” Oliver beams at her and Elio knows Oliver’s mother well enough to know that she is sold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, 
> 
> here is another chapter and I hope you are all keeping safe!
> 
> Stay beautiful 💜

They sit under the tree in almost absolute dark and Oliver's tears don't stop or become any more gut tightening and Elio thinks _finally_ because it worried him, no - it terrified him that Oliver didn't cry when they went to the vets and had to agree to put Karl down, that he didn't give a way to his pain even when they sat together at their and Karl's favourite spot in the forest, the urn with the dog's ashes looking utterly wrong in Oliver's lap and Elio's heart ached from the way his best friend's usually strong and so sure fingers trembled as they gripped around the container until the tendons of Oliver's forearms stood up and there was a thin layer of sweat glistening across his forehead. 

"I miss him so fucking much," Oliver whispers and his voice is so little and broken that Elio's whole body flinches and he can feel his own tears as they make their way and push from behind his eyelids. "I miss him like a limb. And sometimes when dad calls me on Skype to nose about the training I still ask for him - to see him on the camera to talk to him and then it registers that he is truly gone and all I have left is that goddamn awful urn by the fireplace." 

"And now," Oliver turns his head towards Elio and there is so much pain scribbled all over Oliver's handsome features that Elio's throat makes this funny little thing when he almost says _please, let me take care of you. Let me love you,_ but he sinks his teeth into his tongue to keep his mouth shut. "Now they fucking come up with conclusion that something what was always unspoiled and sacred for me should end so pathetically and pointlessly and they just killed him off. And he was Old Shatterhand's best friend and you are mine and poor, old Karl with his three legs and grey face and double chin."

For a moment, Elio thinks Oliver isn't talking just about Karl's and Winettou's deaths. For a moment, Elio thinks Oliver understands the way Elio feels about two of them growing apart, that he knows and hurts the same way Elio does. 

But how could he? Oliver, who was so keen on the academy, Oliver with a bright future and all those new friends he never stops talking about. 

"I miss him too," Elio offers simply and presses his calf against Oliver's. "I catch myself looking over my shoulder to check up on him. You know how bloody slow he was in the last few months," Elio laughs and the sentiment behind it is so bittersweet that his throat closes up for a second or two. "I miss you too," Elio adds in a barely there whisper and he is thankful for the thick darkness around them. 

* flashback

Elio tries his hardest to keep up with Oliver and Karl, but God, his lungs are on actual fire with all the pollen in the air and his legs are starting to give up under the weight of his aching body. 

And then he sees Oliver who stumbles and falls onto the grass face first and Karl rushes over to him with a loud bark and anxiously sniffs at Oliver's neck but then Oliver starts to laugh - warm, happy sound that comes from deep inside his belly and he grabs at the dog and squeezes him tightly against his chest and just rolls both of them in the tall grass. Elio flops himself right next to them, breathing as if he is about to suffer a collapsed lung, but then he looks at Oliver whose face is buried in Karl's thick, brown fur and the blue of his eyes looks quite striking against the yellow of dandelions' heads and Elio thinks _I want you._ _I want you and I don't quite know what to do with myself._

*

Elio hopes the girl - Marzia - doesn't notice when he dodges her yet another attempt to get closer to him as her long, lanky bare leg presses against his. He tries to distract himself from the sight of Oliver and Francesca as they chase each other under the stars and a huge full moon and Elio wonders if the memory of Oliver and Karl from this morning as they laid in the sea of dandelions was real, but it must have been, because he still wants his best friend with such a vivid urgency it makes his temples (and other body parts) throb.

He doesn't know why he agreed to meet Francesca's friend when Oliver suggested it.

 _"She is cute and Italian and your parents tell me I should take you out more often now you are fifteen"_ , he smiled at Elio who pretended he didn't notice the suggestiveness of Oliver's tone and continued to make his way through the Captain America comics. Truth was, he was never able to deny anything to Oliver, he didn't want to, and he would agree to do so much more than to go on a silly double date if it meant Oliver keeps smiling at him like that.

Like he truly mattered to Oliver. Like there was never going to be anybody else who would matter more. 

"Does he know?" Marzia's voice brings him back to reality, and he looks at her face - really looks at her for what's probably the first time that evening and he accepts a little plastic shot of vodka she offers him. Elio drinks it almost greedily, accepting the burn and awful taste, but when he opens his eyes again she is still there with that knowing look on her stupidly friendly face.

"Because Francesca doesn't," she smiles then, her eyes flicking slowly from Elio's face to where Francesca squeals excitedly as Oliver catches up with her and lifts her into his arms as if she weighs nothing.

"Oh," Elio blinks some more at her as the true meaning of her words sinks deeper into his brain and Marzia shrugs her shoulders at Elio matter of factly and refills his plastic cup. "That's -," and he doesn't know what to say, because he is fifteen and has no clue. Not just about what she wants or doesn't want to hear, but about things that matter in general. So he follows her suit and looks at Oliver as he kisses Francesca and they are both laughing and look so bloody happy and Elio never felt lonelier in his entire life.

Not even when Mafalda hugged him for the very last time.

"I'm sorry, Marzia," he says before he downs another drink and this time it's him, who presses his jean clad leg against hers in a gesture of silent reassurance. "It sucks, huh?" 

"You should tell him, you know," she tells him not unkindly. "He looks at you sometimes - when he thinks you can't see him," she smiles at him and it's nothing more than a sad little lift of the corner of her pretty mouth, "I would give my left kidney if it meant she would look at me that way at least once." 

*

It's two weeks later and Oliver is still hanging around with Francesca and Elio doesn't really mind it that much, because he likes spending time with Marzia. Marzia, who doesn't push the issue when he refuses to answer some of her questions, Marzia, who runs her fingers through his hair and whispers _you are staring, again_ when he sometimes forgets himself and gets lost in sharp angles of Oliver's shoulder blades. 

They met with some other people - players from Oliver's hockey team, mates from school and some friends of Francesca and Marzia, who decided to tag along. There is alcohol, plenty of it, but Elio doesn't drink - not because he is the youngest in the company, but because he remembers the raging headache he woke up with two weeks ago after he drank the shots Marzia kept offering. 

He isn't sure whose house they end up in, but it seems Marzia must have been here before as she takes his hand and leads the way. They hide in one of the upstairs rooms and lounge around while listening to _I Puritani_ on Marzia's CD player.

"Why are we listening to the opera?" Elio whispers and smiles at the ceiling without looking at Marzia who lays on the floor next to him quietly. He is very fond of classical music, but for some reason his parents were never too keen on opera. Elio thinks it's rather lovely.

Marzia's fingers entwine with his and Elio likes how soft her skin feels compared to his calloused hand, "I thought it was time we bonded over something Italian," she nods at nobody in particular. 

"Well, I like it," Elio tells her and squeezes her hand ever so slightly. "I like you." 

Marzia rolls onto her side and her free hand rests on Elio's chin. Elio thinks she looks beautiful with her dark hair falling around her face in neat, soft curls, but he doesn't feel the way he feels when his eyes slip over the shape of Oliver's bicep muscle - as if Elio is going to explode from frustration if he isn't close to him. 

"Wouldn't it be so much less complicated if we could just fall in love with each other?" Marzia offers and Elio knows it's more of a fact than an actual question and he leaves it at that. 

*

When they join the rest of the group in the living room, they are all gathered in a neat circle playing what appears to be Spin the bottle and Elio wishes he could just go back to the safety of the room he and Marzia left. There are some comments being made as they sit on the carpet and Elio swears someone actually whistles at them. His eyes find Oliver where he sits with Francesca's head on his shoulder and Elio rolls his eyes as one of Oliver's friends claps Elio's back so hard it makes him jump and calls him _a dog_. Elio laughs at that, but for some reason Oliver isn't laughing back at him, instead he looks at Elio with a serious sort of expression and something else that Elio isn't quite able to decipher. 

That startles him, because he could always read Oliver like an open book and suddenly it was almost as if a certain chapter - an important one - was made unavailable to Elio's eyes and the book snapped shut. 

There is a loud noise and it takes a while for Elio to catch up with who is kissing who, but then he understands that Oliver span the bottle and it landed on the captain of his ice hockey team. James. James proceeds to sort of crawl on all fours towards Oliver, his movement heavy and uncoordinated with too much alcohol. Oliver is still looking at Elio when James appears in front of him with a lopsided smile. Someone is clapping as James kisses Oliver and there is this thing, which swells inside Elio and he suddenly feels like he is going to cry or maybe scream and there is Marzia's voice very close to his ear, but she might as well talks absolute Gibberish, because there is this never ending buzz all around Elio and his eyes are burning with how smug James looks when he says he always wanted to try that with Oliver. As if Oliver was some kind of one off thing one could just try and never come back to. As if Oliver wasn't the person Elio is in love with. 

What?

Elio blinks one, twice or maybe million times and he registers in the very corner of his eye that Francesca is about to kiss Marzia and he wants to be happy for his friend, but his brain can't stop rambling over the fact that he is in love with his best friend. 

That was ridiculous, right? Elio is fifteen for goodness sake. It's one thing to lust after someone attainable, but to love. What does he know of love? He loves his parents, Mafalda and Karl.

He likes Olives as one likes his best friend, his blood brother. He respects Oliver for his courage and the way he always tries to stand up for what's right. Even if he ends up with a split lip and three stitches. It leaves him in nothing short of awe, how _kind_ Oliver is and truth to be told, Elio hears it often enough - from his parents and friends, _"You are so kind, Elio,"_ but he isn't, not really, not when he looks at his and Oliver's friendship and the things his best friend done for Elio or others. How did it come to this?

It's almost as if he failed to pay attention for maybe five minutes or ten and everything that made perfect sense to him, went completely tits up. He scrambles to his feet awkwardly and walks towards the front door. He is sure nobody noticed him as there are two of Francesca's friends basically groping each other in the middle of the room and he is as fast on his feet as his confused mind allows him when he tries to make out which way to turn to get himself home. 

"Elio!" Fuck, that is definitely Oliver calling his stupid name and Elio thinks maybe he can pretend he didn't hear him and get away with it. "Elio, wait!" 

Oliver's trainers sound heavy against the pavement as he runs up to Elio and grabs him by the shoulder, "where do you think you are going? I promised your mum I would walk you home." 

Elio bites his bottom lip to stop himself from saying something extremely ugly, because that's how he feels right now - ugly and bitter and of fucking course Oliver promised Annella to look after Elio, because that's what Elio really is - little fifteen year old who needs a child minder. 

He wants to carry on walking, but Oliver's grip on him is strong and damn him and his stupid gym membership.

"Oi! What is wrong with you?" Oliver forces Elio to stop and turns his body around and Elio squeezes his eyes shut, because he is petrified of what Oliver might see in them, he can't loose Oliver, not over something so stupid. 

Oliver's face is tight with worry as he skims over Elio from head to toe as if he is checking his friend for actual injuries, "what's the matter, Elio?" Oliver asks him, his breath comes out in short, focused puffs and Elio can smell beer and it should be gross but it runs through Elio's veins with such a rush he visibly shivers. "Did Marzia force you into something you weren't comfortable with?" 

Elio thought it couldn't get any worse, but fuck, was he wrong. 

He tries to control the anger he feels, but it's so damn hard with Oliver looking at him so pitifully and yeah, Marzia was maybe few years older than Elio, but for fuck's sake what was wrong with Oliver and his weird knight in a shining armour syndrome? Elio isn't something useless and fragile that needs his constant protection and concerned looks. 

"You know you can tell me everything, right?" Oliver adds and Elio hates how sincere his best friend sounds and looks, he hates all of it. 

"Bloody hell, Oliver! Stop getting your knickers into a twist over nothing!" Elio's arms flop around him wildly and he knows he is overreacting, but he is in love with his perfectly straight best friend and he is fifteen and his life is so tragic it's almost Shakespearean. "We did big fat nothing, okay? We listened to some music and she held my hand! There, scandalous, right?" He tries his hardest to push into Oliver's chest to get away from him, but the boy's body doesn't budge.

"Is that why you are so upset then? Cause you wanted something to happen?" Oliver tries again and Elio wants to scream in frustration. Why wouldn't he just drop it? "I'm sure she likes you very much. Give it time, okay? Francesca told me -,"

"It doesn't matter, Oliver," Elio cuts his best friend's words off rudely and he hates how affected by it Oliver looks. "I wouldn't know what to do, anyway, alright? Nothing happened between me and Marzia and nothing will. We didn't even kiss, I don't even know _how_ to do that, are you fucking happy now? Walk me home like the child I'm."

"Elio-," Oliver looks at him from under his fringe and Elio can't help himself as his eyes follow the track of Oliver's tongue as it slides over his dry bottom lip. Screw James and everybody else who gets to kiss Oliver. Screw every single one of them. "Elio, I don't understand what you want from me right now. I just want to know you are okay."

Elio wants to come up with something cutting and rude in response, but Oliver wraps his stupidly strong arms around him, Oliver's body shielding him from everything and nothing at all and he tugs Elio towards his chest and Elio thinks about Karl as he was in the exact same position against Oliver's body this morning and Elio understands why the dog looked so goddamn happy - with his tongue hanging from his mouth and big tail banging against the ground, Elio could die like this - with Oliver's warmth all around him and with the smell of his cologne and hint of something fresh and citrusy under it all that was always distinctively linked to his best friend. 

"Are you okay?" Oliver asks him after they stand there wrapped in each other's arms for what seems like hours, but also as if no time passed at all. Elio knows he makes a funny little noise when Oliver kisses the top of his head and what horrible things he must have done in one of his previous lives to deserve this? 

"Me okay," he grunts grumpily, but doesn't struggle when Oliver decides to hold him a little bit longer.

* end of flashback

"You do know that the academy isn't forever, right?" Oliver approaches the topic once again when they decide it's getting too cold to carry on talking outside and make their way back into the house. "You never said anything, I thought you were sort of relieved I was out of the way, really." 

Elio turns onto his heel to channel his most evil eye at Oliver, because what was he on about? 

"Don't try to make this one about me, Oliver," Elio tells him as he starts gathering things for his shower. "I remember it very clearly. First, you shocked everybody with an idea to join the army and when it literally broke your parents' hearts, you came up with the police academy as a backup plan. It's all about you and your saviour complex." 

Oliver snickers at Elio and his face and voice are dripping with sarcasm when he says, "broke their hearts? God, Elio. They basically laughed at me and said I'm too soft. You-," there is a flash of raw hurt in Oliver's eyes as his index finger stabs the middle of Elio's chest. "You agreed." 

Elio visibly deflates, because he didn't see Oliver in weeks and the last thing he wants to do is argue about semantics. 

"But you _are_ soft," he tells Oliver gently. "You always have been. You like picking up strays off the streets, giving them home and making them belong. Strays like Elvis. Karl. Like me. That's what makes you, who you are. And for fuck's sake, just look at yourself," Elio grabs Oliver by shoulders and gives him a little shake, "you are a walking, talking target. Everyone is gonna get a shot at you. They don't even have to aim. It only makes sense your parents want to keep you safe. That I want the very same thing. Even if it means you hate me for it and won't talk to me." 

"I never hated you," Oliver says quietly as he shakes his head as if to highlight his argument. "Not for a second. And I guess it will make you happy to know that my superiors in the academy agree with you and think I'm useless and soft too. They are trying to redirect me into a dog training unit." 

"How is that a bad thing? You love animals and animals love you. It's the perfect career for you. Why are you upset? I don't get it?"

Oliver turns his back on Elio and his whole posture seems as tired as Elio himself feels.

"Maybe you are right, Elio. Maybe I do suffer with some kind of saviour complex, but maybe - just maybe, I want to prove that everything we stood up for as kids wasn't fake and isn't long gone. I need it - I need to believe we are still what we were back then. Like Old Shatterhand and Winettou. That just because we are getting older and sadder, it doesn't mean they are too."

"Oh, you are such a sap, it's really impossible to be mad at you," Elio smiles at Oliver, bright and happy and full of hope. Because no matter what future holds for the two of them, Elio knows Oliver always will be partly his and the boy, who he met sitting gloomily on the side of the road will never fail to shine through. "I really missed you, you know? And not just because I needed a fake boyfriend to keep my parents off my back. But as far as fake boyfriends go, you are actually decent." 

The last thing Elio sees before he closes the bathroom door is Oliver who clicks his heels together and sends him off with a mocking salute. 

-x-

By the time he is finished with the shower, Oliver is settled in the bed, but he isn't sleeping. Elio climbs into the bed and tugs at the duvet, which slowly slips from Oliver's shoulders. 

"Duvet thief," Oliver scowls at him, but doesn't tug back. 

"Nah," Elio smiles at him as he wraps the said duvet around his shivering body tightly. "You always run warm. You don't need it." 

"Okay," Oliver agrees simply and wiggles around his side of the bed to make himself more comfortable. "Elio?" 

"Hmm?" Elio's eyes are careful as they skim over Oliver's face, because he knows his best friend is still vulnerable and upset about what happened earlier. 

"Do you think Karl went to heaven?" Oliver asks and it should be at least a little bit ridiculous, a grown ass man like him asking question like that aloud. But it really isn't. 

It takes some work, but Elio manages to free his arms from under the duvet and reaches for Oliver. He isn't sure what was an initial idea behind the movement - was he going for a hug? Clap on a shoulder? On the head? But his body was always moving far before his brain had a chance to catch up in situations like this, situations when Oliver needed him. So he goes what appears to be a second nature to him now and cups Oliver's face with his hands. There are lines across Oliver's face that Elio doesn't remember from before Karl's death. From before the academy. Training for hours in all sorts of weather left Oliver's face tanned - harshly so, and Elio sees freckles all over the bridge of Oliver's nose - something he never saw before.

"I don't think the place could be truly called Heaven if Karl isn't there," Elio smiles gently and nods in an agreement what he just said. "I'm sure he met your cat Elvis by now and they look after each other."

"Elio," Oliver says so quietly that Elio's hands on Oliver's face barely move. "You said-you said not to do it again. Ever." 

Elio's head tilts in confusion, because he feels like he is missing something he shouldn't.

Oliver's eyes are wide, intent and unblinking, "you said not to do it ever again and I promised myself I won't, because our friendship is what keeps me going during the bad days, but good days too. But fuck, you are making things very difficult for me." Elio feels the way his best friend's jaw tightens under his fingers and he knows he must paint a picture as the meaning behind Oliver's words slots together and carries him whole years back. 

* flashback

It's almost as if somebody put a spell on him. No matter how sunny and gorgeous the sky outside is, Elio has this permanent gloomy cloud above his head wherever he goes, and it won't stop pouring. 

He is seventeen and life should be fun. But it isn't. No matter how many times he argues with himself and repeats over and over again that Oliver's new girlfriend is just another girl who comes and goes while Elio stays, it's still eats him alive. Bright yellow jealousy, but also a sheer terror, because Jayne is different in a way - talking about wedding, children and white picket fence. 

"Are you really not going to dance?" Marzia tries again as she pokes his shoulder.

"Nope," Elio pops the p extra loud and there is a twitch in his jaw that occurs every time Oliver and Jayne appear in his field of vision. They really make a great all American couple - both blonde and beautiful and Elio's cloud starts to spit lightnings at him. 

"I thought you said you are almost completely over it all now," she prods at him and Elio takes another sip of his beer just to stop himself from hurling curses at her. 

"Yes, I said _almost_ ," Elio shrugs his shoulders at Marzia and he hates how pathetic and little he is. How fucking loyal and set in his ways he is that he just can't get out there and enjoy himself and let go of what's dragging him down, because he can't and won't be with anybody else than Oliver. "I'm not in a mood." 

"Okay," Marzia says and waves at him as she walks towards the dance floor. "Keep moping then." 

*

"Why didn't you dance?" Oliver asks and jabs his shoulder into Elio's ribs playfully. "Karen almost run away crying from there." 

"I couldn't care less. She wasn't _my_ date. Just somebody, who agreed to go out with me, because Jayne and you begged," the words are bitter on his tongue and he feels so fucking sorry for himself in his drunkenness it makes his head hurt. "I'm not interested about the leftovers you leave laying around." 

Oliver stops in his walk so abruptly that Elio literally walks into his back. What was the matter? They were inside Oliver's house, weren't they? Best friends forever and sleepovers, yeeey! 

"You are so full of bullshit when you are drunk," Oliver tells him and Elio steadies himself as his one hand lands between Oliver's shoulders. "Full of bullshit and awfully rude too!" 

"Whatever, bud," Elio claps Oliver's back mockingly and he can feel how tense the other boy's muscles get under his ministrations. "I know you think I'm completely useless, but I can get laid if I want to and I don't need you to stick your big nose when it doesn't belong. I'm not your charity cause to impress your cow of a girlfriend with. So back off. It's long overdue." 

Oliver turns around and the quick, unexpected movement makes Elio sway on his not so steady feet. He can't remember the last time Oliver became truly angry with him - it was quite impressive how much prissiness he could tolerate when it comes to Elio, but he was surely pissed off now. 

"What is your problem, Elio?" Oliver hisses through his teeth and Elio can tell he is trying to control his temper from the way his fists clench and unclench against his thighs.

"Shall I write you a list?" Elio's face contorts as he attempts to laugh at Oliver's angry face and fails spectacularly. "As I said. I can get laid if I want to. I don't need the training wheels you keep pushing on me. I'm not yours to take care of." 

Elio never thought he would call Oliver's face _ugly_ , but it overflows with so many different emotions at the same time it really is ugly and Elio wonders why the hell Oliver looks like he is hurt by Elio's words, but then something changes in the blue of Oliver's eyes and it's darker than he ever seen in before, darker and so much colder. 

"So why don't you, huh? You know everybody laughs at you. Why don't you just go and _get laid_?" 

"What is it to you?" Elio rolls his eyes at Oliver and walks into Oliver's bedroom. "So you can laugh together with them? Or you already are? Oh look at him! Seventeen years old and virgin. Didn't even kiss anybody, because he is so fucking pathetic as to not go around and be intimate with people who don't matter to him. HA-HA-FUCKING-HA!"

Oliver makes his way into the room and the door shuts behind him with an audible thud. Elio feels he might be sick, because he drunk far too much, but also because he is admitting to things he swore not to. He lets go of an air he was holding with a loud puff as Oliver reaches for his shoulders and pins him against the wall as he is nothing but an annoying fly. Is he really a nothing? To himself? To Oliver? To everybody else? 

Oliver's mouth slams against Elio's and it could be and also should be the happiest moment of Elio's life, but it isn't. Not with Elio and Oliver being drunk. Not when Oliver doesn't mean it. Not when it means that Elio will be left behind, wishing for something what couldn't be for the rest of his pathetic existence. He struggles against Oliver who tries to kiss him some more, but then he stops, baring his teeth at Elio like something absolutely feral. 

"Don't," Elio's voice is awfully quiet, but he knows Oliver hears him alright. "Don't you fucking dare to do that ever again!" Elio spits the words as if they taste of something horribly unpleasant and doesn't wait another second before he walks out from Oliver's room. 

* end of flashback


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure I'm writing this little story more for myself than anyone else at this point. I'm finally almost done with my nursing degree and I'm looking forward to have August off and write some more :) I know this story isn't anything special but I do enjoy it and don't want to leave it unfinished before I start something new. I hope you are all healthy, well and safe. Stay beautiful.

The memory is unclear in Elio's mind, diluted by the alcohol Elio drank that night Oliver tried to kiss him but also by the overload of contradicting emotions which threatened to choke him to death and all those years that passed by and ensured the day got pushed into the furthest corner of Elio’s subconsciousness. The details of the night shifted and changed so much and so often that Elio thinks he perhaps dreamt it all up, brief alcohol and despair fuelled nightmare that he never wants to experience again. But Oliver, Oliver with his big, intent and almost sad eyes is still right there, and if they are both talking about the very same thing, if Oliver also _remembers_ , it surely meant something to him as well.

The face, which still rests quite cosily between Elio’s palms, is so familiar to him that even as he shuts his eyes to clear his confused mind, he sees it behind his eyelids to every little imperfection. It doesn’t matter how much time passed between the two of them. Fifteen days. Months. Or years. It doesn’t matter how much Oliver’s face changed under the harshness around them, how much deeper the lines under his eyes cut. Elio’s heart still beats the same way it did when he saw the blue of his best friend’s eyes against the yellow dandelion sea with Karl pressed fondly against his chest. It still beats in a staccato of tenderness as if no time passed at all, as if he could still pretend to be Winnetou who fights next to his blood brother to the very end. 

Elio doesn’t open his eyes, but the corners of his mouth lift with an easy smile, and for some unexplainable reason, he knows that Oliver is smiling back. It really doesn’t matter, does it? It doesn’t matter if Oliver lives thousands of kilometres away if he chooses to enlist or if they don’t speak to each other for years. Because his mother was right. They are two soulmates who are destined to always collide together, no matter the circumstances around them or universe they happened to live in.

"God, how I wish I was different back then," Oliver's jaw shifts with the quiet barely-there whisper and Elio's hands slide down to Oliver's shoulders to reassure Oliver, but maybe also to anchor Elio. "I wish I was able to tell you how much you meant to me from the very first day we met, this little kid appearing out of nowhere and giving me so much more than I ever asked for or deserved. I wish I wasn't a coward all those years."

"Tell me even if you are fifteen years too late," Elio’s eyes finally meet Oliver’s again and it’s almost as if they travel through the time and space, it’s almost as if they relive all those countless situations they have been through – different bodies and lives altogether but he knows it’s always just two of them until the end of the line. "Tell me anyway."

Oliver whole frame shakes under the depth of the breath he takes and it doesn’t escape Elio’s attention, the way Oliver shrugs his shoulders as if to say _to hell with it all_.

"It never worked for me, you know?" Elio watches Oliver as he slips away from his touch and sits up onto his heels. "All those girlfriends. Year after year after year. I prayed until my knees bruised, hoping they could make me feel something that would be at least somewhat close to the sentiment I felt for my best friend. For you." It's refreshing when Oliver's gaze doesn't falter, and even if the angle of his jaw appears sharper and more angular, he carries on, "sometimes I thought I almost had it. With Jayne, I thought I finally moved on and understood it was just an idealistic image my young self created, and I was ready to leave it all behind, but it never lasted, none of it could have ever measured up with _us_. They all left at the end, and I cursed every single one of them, but not as much as I cursed you- I-"

"I couldn't- I wouldn't risk what we had, Elio. I wouldn't risk that if I caved under what-ifs and my wistful thinking and you didn't feel the same, or even _worse_ you did feel the same but eventually found out the same thing they did – that I'm nothing special after all – and left, I wouldn't be able to get over it. I still can't, I'm not going to chance it," Oliver nods his head vehemently more at himself than Elio as he brushes non-existent lint off his pants. "But I know this conversation is probably long overdue. I think, if we are both really honest and look somewhere deep inside and hidden, we have been dancing around it all _forever. And_ I guess it's a bit easier now, with me at the academy and you having your own things, your own life going on. Because if you decide that this is too much and that you don't want to be as close and see each other as often, I will totally respect that. I will take a step back until you feel comfortable enough, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm not losing our friendship. No matter how much far gone for you, I still am or always will be."

* flashback

Oliver's whole body aches – his head, stomach, his heart and he can't force himself to move even when his tears start to mix with the raindrops and his clothes are soaked in mere minutes. Oliver wishes his mom and dad are with him, he wishes he got to wake up any second now as Elvis fluffy tail brushes against his face.

But the time ticks by painfully and nothing changes at all, nothing changes at all, and his beloved cat is still scarily stiff and cold where it lays curled across his lap. Oliver tries his best to protect his best friend's body and shelters it from the rain as he hunches onto himself a little bit more in his misery.

"Ciao," Oliver almost misses the word altogether, because it's too soft and unsure against the sound of the rain and force of Oliver's embarrassing sobs. "Are you okay?"

He wants to tell the person, whomever it might be, to mind his own business but he is also lonely and scared.

"You want some?"

Oliver finally looks up, following the question, which is thread through with a thick accent that Oliver doesn't register as a familiar one.

Oliver blinks the rain away from his eyes and sees the boy, who must be from the family his parents talked about for a past two days. He doesn't understand why were his mum and dad so interested in those Italians because the boy in front of him was pitifully small and weak looking. Oliver's eyes skim over the bag of blueberries the boy is offering to him with a nervous tick of his left eyebrow, and it hits him again and as much unexpected as the first time around – that his cat is dead, dead, dead and it isn't coming back.

"Elvis likes blueberries. Sometimes he would try to eat them, sometimes he would just chase them around," Oliver tells the boy instead and how funny is it that he calls other people weak when he is twelve years old and can't command himself to stop crying.

"Elvis?" the other boy tries again, and Oliver doesn't know why he doesn't just walk away. Why he still stands here, soaked with his unruly black hair plastered to his pale forehead and sounding like he genuinely asked because he wanted to know.

Oliver doesn't trust his throat anymore so he unfolds his knees, which won't stop shaking, and his eyes follow the boy as he sits on the floor right next to Oliver and his dead cat.

"I never had a pet. Not one. I have allergies and mamma can't stand the hair. But I would like one. One day. Very much," the boy tells Oliver and Oliver feels the boy's sticky hand as it touches his elbow. "Is it okay if I pet him? He seems like he was a lovely cat."

Oliver is crying again, and he should be ashamed of himself, but then he thinks about his mother as she turns around with her eyebrows knit together in a harsh line as her sister scowls Oliver sometimes for being too sensitive and too soft because men don't cry and something about his mother's face cuts his aunt off mid-sentence, and he remembers when his mother kisses him goodnight and says that all human beings cry and men are human beings too.

He doesn't miss the small hand as it carefully reaches out and strokes Elvis.

"At first, I thought he was just sleeping, you know? He looks very peaceful," the boy tells him but doesn't push Oliver into the conversation.

"He was a very good cat and my best friend," Oliver offers, and it feels good to say it aloud because it is true. "I shouldn't have let him shit in Miller's garden. He hates everything that moves and shoots it too. I'm sure he hit Elvis by car. I hope he will rot in hell one day, old nasty fucker."

"Maybe, he was chosen for something bigger than this? Maybe he travels across the stars and fights for peace, love and acceptance. Isn't that a much nicer thing to think about?"

Oliver's eyes widen at the way the boy managed to counterpoint his nastiness and anger with an idea so lovely that he forgets about all the fury he felt just a few seconds ago. His best friend isn't coming back, but Oliver will make sure he will always remember for what he was. He looks up at the grey, cloudy sky and blinks against the rain, "he was always such an explorer, he would absolutely love that."

*

"Would you stay still for a second?" Oliver rolls his eyes at Elio, but there is no real heat behind the words and his best friend knows him far too well and excitedly wriggles some more.

"You are impossible!" Oliver laughs, and his voice is still so very unfamiliar in his own ears, being fifteen and growing so fast that his mother sometimes suspects there is something strange in their water supply, "I give up!"

Oliver takes a few steps back and critically looks at a colourful headband, which is now decorating quite proudly Elio's head, "happy thirteen birthday, Elio!"

Elio's mouth shapes around the words, but then suddenly there is a strange flick of an emotion Oliver isn't sure he interprets correctly, because Elio loves presents and birthdays, and something akin to fear jerks with Oliver's whole body, because sure, his present is kind of lame. It doesn't hold any real value because Oliver put it together (with a little help of his mother's sewing skills) himself and the more he thinks about it, the more he is petrified by the fact that he let his best friend down.

"On the second thought, if you don't like it-"

"Do you think that I'm super lame?"

Oliver blinks at Elio in confusion couple of times. He doesn't like the way Elio doesn't smile at him anymore, because he always liked his best friend's smile the most, and in Oliver's humblest opinion, Elio should never stop smiling.

"I mean…" Oliver watches the way the tip of Elio's trainer digs itself deeper into the mud. It's almost as if the dog can tell, as if he can sniff out Elio's uneasiness, coming to the rescue at the very last minute and nudging his head against Elio's thigh in silent encouragement. "You are fifteen and have like million new friends on your ice hockey team, and they all seem so… cool? And everybody we know looks up to you and wants to hang up around you and I can’t blame them, I really can’t. Meanwhile, you are still here - with me, playing childish games I ask you to play and don't make a face, Oliver, I _know_ they are stupid, and I'm just so-so-so me and uncool," Elio's shoulders sag in defeat. His voice is nothing that it should be right now (excited, happy, in a birthday mode) and Oliver wants it to stop right this moment, "so horribly uncool."

"Well, guess what, Sherlock?" Oliver slings his arm around Elio's so much smaller shoulders and gives him what he hopes comes across as a reassuring squeeze. "That makes me uncool too. I would pick your company over theirs every single time. All they ever talk about are the ways to jerk off and boobs," he laughs at the way Elio blushes as soon as the words push their way from behind Oliver's teeth. "I mean, I'm no prude or anything, but I do appreciate that we have all of this between us," he gestures a bit lamely between himself and Elio because he isn't sure if he has enough courage to say things like trust, real friendship, bond aloud, "I like it very much."

Elio tilts his head ever so slightly, and it moves his new headband somewhat out of place. And Oliver thinks his friend maybe forgot about it being around his head altogether because Elio's face lights up with the power of thousands suns and Oliver knows he picked the present just right.

"Thank you for the present!" Elio almost jumps up with excitement and his headband moves around some more, "do you think, mamma would let me try it on with that long-haired wig of hers?"

*

Oliver wants to like Marzia. In their growing group of friends, she sticks out like a sore thumb. She is different, always so incredibly kind to Elio at whom others want to laugh at but out of false respect for Oliver won’t. Not directly anyway. Taking care of Elio in the way Oliver tries not to dwell on too often and too much. Still, sometimes – just sometimes, it surprises Oliver who is entirely unprepared and vulnerable, the force with which he wishes he could be the one who carelessly puts his head to rest on Elio’s shoulder in front of everybody and kisses his hand as he laughs at Elio’s lame jokes. He knows he should be grateful for Marzia in Elio’s life, because Elio deserves all the attention, praise and love there is to get, but some awfully dark and bitter part of him wants to rip them apart with his bare hands every time they disappear somewhere together.

Oliver really wishes he could like Marzia.

*

Oliver tries to block his stupid brain which regardless his gorgeous and very kind girlfriend being right there, despite undeniably attractive James who just crawled right into his personal space and Oliver can feel a puff o warm breath against his face and is ready to kiss him throws at helpless Oliver over and over again that it should have been Elio the stupid bottle of Budweiser should have landed on.

The kiss isn't over quick enough, and Oliver somehow loses track of the game altogether as he registers that Elio isn't in the room. It's odd because Marzia is there so why Elio isn't, and it's pitch black outside. Oliver is up on his feet before he even has the decency to let Francesca know where he is off to without as little as saying goodbye.

Did something happen between Marzia and Elio? Was he upset because she and Francesca kissed? Oliver could feel his heart rate rising, his blood suddenly flowing through his veins so much quicker. Did she hurt Elio or made him uncomfortable?

"Elio!" Oliver's lungs are on fire when he finally catches up with his friend. His voice is weakened by the exertion, but he is sure that Elio must hear him. Why isn't he slowing down? "Elio, wait!"

He sprints up to Elio and perhaps grabs at his pointy shoulder with more force than it's strictly necessary, Oliver's own strength scares him nowadays, "where do you think you are going? I promised your mum I would walk you home." It's a lame excuse, but it's plausible one at least.

Elio's head snaps around so quick it's almost unnatural, and his face is so full of anger and frustration it scares Oliver.

Surely, he was wrong, and Marzia wouldn't really hurt Elio, right? He might not have been the girl's biggest fan, but she cared for Elio for real. That much was more than apparent.

"Oi! What is wrong with you?" Oliver asks and tries to ignore the way Elio shuts his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide away from Oliver. He wants to ask when exactly (which year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second) did they start having secrets between themselves and if this is how it's going to be from now on.

If this is how it's going to be forever.

"What's the matter, Elio?"

_You can do this, Oliver_ he thinks as he takes a deep breath and tries to school his face into a picture of perfect calmness, "did Marzia force you into something you weren't comfortable with?" There, he said it. It wasn't that hard. Oliver braces himself for Elio's answer, his hand unknowingly forming a tight fist. "You know you can tell me everything, right?"

_Fucking hypocrite._

"Bloody hell, Oliver! Stop getting your knickers into a twist over nothing! We did big fat nothing, okay? We listened to some music, and she held my hand! There, scandalous, right?"

The bluntness of Elio's voice pushes Oliver to take a step back from the boy. He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but his mind is still blaring with the alarm because Elio was rarely this defensive around Oliver and it only further fuels his imagination of possible scenarios which could have happened between Marzia and Elio.

"Is that why you are so upset then? Cause you wanted something to happen?" Oliver's face is unchanged, but God, his chest hurts in the way, which has nothing to do with his earlier exercise. "I'm sure she likes you very much. Give it time, okay? Francesca told me -,"

"It doesn't matter, Oliver! I wouldn't know what to do, anyway, alright? Nothing happened between us, and nothing will. We didn't even kiss, I don't even know how to do that, are you fucking happy now? Walk me home like the child I'm."

"Elio… Elio, I don't understand what you want from me right now. I just want to know you are okay," Oliver offers to his friend weakly, his voice audibly tired and deflated and shall Oliver mark today as the day everything changes? His body acts before his brain, and he wraps his arms around Elio – something he would do less and less nowadays and how stupid was he? Thinking he can as much as breathe without Elio by his side, without his warmth and kindness. His friend feels awfully small in his arms, and sometimes he wishes he could stop growing. Maybe then Elio would stop hiding things from him and see him eye to eye once again.

"Are you okay?" Oliver's voice is less than a whisper, silenced by Elio's thick curls as he dares to kiss the top of his friend's head. Just this once, Oliver tells himself. Just this once.

"Me okay."

*

"You do realize he isn't a kid anymore, right?" Jayne's slim elbow bumps into Oliver's lightly, and he remembers he should probably take a sip of his drink. "I do get that he is your best mate, but he is seventeen now. Stand at ease, soldier."

Oliver hums noncommittally under his breath as they watch a random bloke who approaches Elio at their table and offers him a sheepish smile and what looks like an invitation to dance.

"I mean, I do admire how caring you are towards him. It is one of the things I really love about you, Oli," Jayne's fingers guides Oliver's jaw to turn towards her, but Oliver cannot miss the way Elio smiles back at the man as Elio shakes his head the invitation but prompts him to sit down next to him. The beer in his mouth he was enjoying up until now suddenly tastes stale. "But once you enlist you will have to let him go his own way. He is a big boy now. He can manage."

He lets Jayne kiss him, and she is lovely and soft and pliant in his arms, but Oliver can't force himself to close his eyes with any real emotion as he kisses her back. She was nothing but understanding of Oliver and supported him even where others didn't - even where his parents and Elio didn't when he came up with the idea of enlisting in a few years, and it still isn't good enough for him to love her back as much as he loves Elio. Nothing is ever enough.

*

"Why didn't you dance? Karen almost ran away crying from there." Oliver tells Elio as they walk towards his house. His legs feel wobbly, and he wonders how much he actually had to drink because it wasn't exactly easy to get someone of his size hammered. Oliver's temples are throbbing painfully, and fresh morning breeze does nothing to make him feel better or less frustrated.

_Why did you spend so much time with that guy?_ He really wants to ask, but of course, he doesn't. Oliver never allows himself to do what he truly wants. _Why did he have to touch you almost constantly? Why didn't you say no?_

_Why? Why? Why?_

"I couldn't care less. She wasn't my date. Just somebody, who agreed to go out with me, because you and Jayne begged. I'm not interested in the leftovers you leave laying around." Elio snaps at him in reply, and Oliver knows he has no fucking right to feel even more frustrated and angry, but he does. Oh, he does.

He stops walking, and he is barely fazed when Elio literally walks into his back. "You are so full of bullshit when you are drunk. Full of bullshit and awfully rude too!" Oliver actually physically shivers when he suddenly feels Elio's warm hand in between his shoulder blades.

"Whatever, bud," Elio laughs at him as he claps his back and Oliver briefly wonders if this is the feeling doctor Banner had just before he Hulked out. "I know you think I'm completely useless, but I can get laid if I want to and I don't need you to stick your big nose when it doesn't belong. I'm not your charity cause to impress your cow of a girlfriend with. So back off. It's long overdue."

Yeah. Oliver gets it. He needs to back off. Jayne tells him so. Elio too. So why can't he?

They way Elio laughed all night in a company of someone else makes Oliver's head throb once again, and the back of his throat taste likes bile.

"What is your problem, Elio?"

"Shall I write you a list?" Elio laughs straight into Oliver's face, and it's so bitter, despicable and so not like Elio at all that Oliver hates him at that moment almost as much as he loves him. Almost. "As I said. I can get laid if I want to. I don't need the training wheels you keep pushing on me. I'm not yours to take care of."

So Jayne keeps telling him. So does Elio shouts while he laughs at his ridiculous face.

"So why don't you, huh? You know everybody laughs at you. Why don't you just go and get laid?"

"What is it to you?" Elio rolls his eyes at Oliver and waves his hand as if to say I'm so finished with you, but he forgets it's Oliver's bedroom he just stormed off into. "So you can laugh together with them? Or you already are?"

Oliver wants to cover his ears and pretend he can't hear him. How fucking dare is he? After everything they have been through together, who cared what others have to say, it was always the two of them until the very end, wasn't it? That's what Elio used to tell him. That's what Oliver used to believe.

"Oh, look at him! Seventeen years old virgin. Didn't even kiss anybody, because he is so fucking pathetic as to not go around and be intimate with people who don't matter to him. HA-HA-FUCKING-HA!"

Oliver isn't exactly sure how, but he knows he never moved so fast in his entire life. One second he is listening to Elio's insults, the next he has his best friend pinned to the wall of his bedroom - bedroom where he spent some of his happiest memories with said best friend and slams their lips together just to shut Elio up. Or so, Oliver tells himself. Because he is a pathetic and emotionally stunted piece of shit even now.

He can't ignore the valiant effort Elio puts up to struggle against him, but Oliver doesn't stop himself straight away as he should, no he assaults his best friend some more while he pretends what it could feel if Elio thought about him at least little bit the way Oliver thinks about him and it takes maybe two full seconds before he lets Elio go.

His lip is bleeding.

That's right. Elio felt so trapped by him that he actually bit through Oliver's bottom lip.

He forced himself on his oldest friend, on somebody he loved more than anybody or anything else in his miserable life.

"Don't," Elio's whispers and there is so much vitriol in his voice Oliver presses the back of his mouth not to stop the bleeding but to stop himself from throwing up. "Don't you fucking dare to do that ever again!"


End file.
